My son. Page after page trying to capture this personality, this conversation, this moment.
Being a mom, parenting.
Trauma. Learning and understanding. Researching. Healing. PTSD, secondary trauma, compassion fatigue.
Myself. All the ways I get stuck in my own mind, fretting. Anxieties and angst. The gerbil on its wheel, going round and round.
Coffee shops. What I see and hear. The sticky spot on the table. The barista’s laugh.
Overheard snippets of conversation. My favorite from last week: “I have to get off the phone now, Mom, I need to work on my chain mail. [Pause]. Not that kind of chain mail. I mean the armor kind of chain mail.”
Lists. To do, to buy, to remember.
Drafts of emails I need to write.
Lesson plans.
Book musings. Thoughts on what I’m reading. Lists of what I want to read.
Ideas for writing.
Quotations.
Quickwrites to prompts I assign my students. I remember. I don’t remember. I know. I don’t know. Write about your memories of first learning to read. Write about your best writing experience. Write about a place associated with your reading and writing life.
Half-finished drawings from the day my son forgot his sketchbook. I write around the lines, squiggles, shapes.
Reflections on teaching. How my students learned and didn’t learn. What I will change next time.
Names I like. Words I like.
Questions.
What I wonder. What I need to know.
Today’s Slice was inspired by Joellen McCarthy’s Try This! Write About Yourself as a Writer.
the dirigible plum 
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